The Queen Rules
by Megawacky Max
Summary: At the age of 16 Gerald has a hard return to his 'The King Rules' addiction. Only Phoebe can convince him otherwise. When Gerald refuses to talk to her, Phoebe challenges him to the card game of his life.
1. The Return of the King

**  
-o-   
  
Author Note:**   
The following story was inspired on a drawing I once developed for Halloween, which showed Phoebe holding up a fan of cards along with a certainly tetric smile.   
I want to thank especially to **Terry Pratchett** for being so awfully good with his _Discworld_ saga that it even reached to inspire me to imitate his hillarous style.   
Also, special thanks to my beloved **Eve13**, who not only introduced me to the _Discworld_ side of the soul but also corrected the grammar of this story, meaning that, unless it's on purpose, you won't read _horryble meestakes l'ke thezze_. (so be thankful for her, okay?)   
Nothing else. Enjoy this story, that starts... like this:   
**  
-o-   
  
The Queen Rules   
  
By:**   
Megawacky Max   
  
**-o-   
  
- Chapter 1 -   
The Return of the King**   
_(Tolkien, eat your heart out)_

  


Summer vacation, the one and only always-loved Summer Vacation. As soon as the 16 year-old teenagers rushed away from the last day of classes, the plans began to be plotted. 

"I'm gonna surf the waves all day!", Sid yelled his happiness out. Stinky supported the feeling. 

"Well, I'm gonna stay on the couch all day!", Harold happily screamed. "Only me, the TV, and a really huge bag of potato chips!" 

"What? Harold, I've thought you said we'd go shopping next Monday," Patty Smith reminded him. 

"Oooohhhh... Do we _have_ to?", the pink boy whined. 

"--and we can go on the Merry-Go-Round," Patty finished, a wink added to the statement. 

Sid and Stinky snickered at that. Harold rose a menacing closed first. "Quit laughing!", he demanded, failing on the initiative. 

"_Harold on the Merry-Go-Round!_", Sid exploded in laugher. 

"Ya'll'll make it stop with tha extra weight!", Stinky said, holding his sides. 

"That's it! I'll _mash_ you two!!", Harold claimed. 

The rest saw him pursue the laughing couple along the street. 

"That was _*so*_ uncool...", Rhonda's snobbish self declared. "How good that I'm going to be far away in South America. They say Bariloche is full of snow, this month." 

"_Bar-e-loh-cheh?_", Helga asked. She even twisted her lips to pronounce the word. "What _is_ that and how do you eat it?" 

"No, Helga," Phoebe explained: "Bariloche is a tourist city of Argentina. It's placed next to Los Andes' range. This time of the year it is a great winter vacation spot." 

"Are you going to tell me that you're gonna MISS all the summer fun because of a lot of cold snow?", Helga scowled at the rich girl. 

"But of course! This heat will only make me sweat and break out in pimples. On the other hand, I can't wait to see my cold flushed cheeks after sliding down the mountain on my new skis..." 

"_Rolling down_ the mountain, you mean...", Helga muttered. "However, I do know what I will do: spend this entire time with Arnold! Isn't that true, my sweetie?", she blinked in at him in such a way everyone around could hear the _click_. She was like that ever since they began to date. 

"Say, Helga... eh... _No_," the football-head blushed. 

"_Wha?_" 

Arnold thought the words before even daring say them. Helga's last reaction had been as nice as the one a person usually has after realizing he had sat on an anthill with barbecue sauce on his pants. 

"I got mail from my cousin Arnie. He asked me to _*cough*visithim*cough*_." 

"You're _leaving_??", both Gerald and Helga asked. 

"Well, yes... He's weird, I accept that... but he's also family." 

"Well, Phoebs, that leaves all the time for us," Gerald smiled. Phoebe smiled too. Helga gave both of them a quick glare and Gerald hurried to add: "... AND Helga, of course... She's your best friend." 

Saved by the bell, Gerald and Phoebe walked along, holding hands, while Arnold and Helga took their own path, trying to enjoy their last hours together.   
  


*** * ***

  


They reached Phoebe's house. They held hands tight, there. 

"Okay, what will we do tomorrow, then?", she asked. 

"It's a lot of vacation, so I won't give you much fun the first day," he joked. "_First_, for tomorrow morning, a picnic at the city park. In the afternoon, a newly-released movie: _'Yo Ernest! - The Movie'_." 

"_Wow!_ They say it's a great movie! Too bad the advertising companies didn't work well on its publicity," Phoebe commented, a shade of shame on her face. 

"Yes, I know. Darn _Mickeylodeon_ network, always against neat shows. Anyway, that's just morning and afternoon, 'cause after it all comes the evening, and with the evening comes a romantic dinner for two!" 

"_Oh, great!_ What will it be?" 

"Hot-Dogs and canned sodas...", Gerald said. Phoebe's smile decreased a little at that, until he added: "... while we stare at the moon, from a table with candles on the roof of my house!" 

"_Really??_", she cheered up again. 

"Really!", he nodded. "My big brother was forced into taking Timberly to an amusement park, so the house will be sibling-free. Mom and Dad will watch a movie." 

"Gerald, that sounds amazing...", she hugged his arm. "You're so attentive." 

"I do my best, Honey..." 

They gave each other a funny Eskimo-Kiss. Phoebe giggled at that, as she always did ever since they began to Eskimo-Kiss, two years ago on their first formal date. 

Gerald stepped back. "So, my lady, I'll come tomorrow morning to pick you up. Be ready at nine AM, okay?" 

"Why, sure!" 

Phoebe stepped in her house with an ear-to-ear smile. Gerald mouthed a low _'Yes!'_ of happiness and began his path back home. 

He was going by a fenced-in alley, when... 

"What do you have?", a voice said. Gerald stopped. 

"Five Gold Piles and one Cranky Uncle," a second voice spoke. 

Gerald's eyes received the words _'Cranky Uncle'_ as a decoding key. A part of his brain he thought he had buried suddenly emerged from the depths. Cards, symbols, dice, rules... all of that appeared in his thoughts. 

"It's... _the game_...", he gasped. His back glued to the fence. He could even hear the gloomy organ music echoing within his head. 

"What will you risk?", the first voice asked. 

"Uhmm...", the second one doubted. 

Don't risk your Gold Piles, _don't risk your Gold Piles_, Gerald repeated over and over in his mind. 

"I'll risk four Gold Piles," the second voice said. 

"_No...!_", Gerald sent a hand to his forehead. 

"Too bad," the first voice laughed," because I have two Tax Man cards. I get your gold." 

Gerald jumped and stuck his head over the fence. "_How_, in the name of the Kingdom, could you dare to risk _four_ Gold Piles?!", he cried, giving in to the character. 

From the other side of the fence, two teenagers turned their surprised eyes to him.   
  


*** * ***

  


Gerald returned home. His mother heard him walking in. 

"Gerald, where have you been? It's almost dinner time!" 

"Uh... is it? Aw, sorry, mom... I got delayed by a couple of friends who needed instructions," he apologized. 

"It's okay. I realize it's Summer Vacation, so you don't need to lie. You surely wanted to take advantage of all the time you could," she smiled as she received her son. 

"Uh... gee, you're smart, mom... I can't hide anything...", he blushed. 

Gerald went upstairs to his room and searched in the deepest and most forgetful underworlds of the wardrobe. From under a pile of old clothes that could have spoke German by then, he pulled out a ribbon-tied shoe box and opened it. 

From inside he produced a dusty deck of cards along with a couple of dice. 

"I can't hide anything... not even an addiction from the past...", he whispered. If his voice had a form, it would have been liquid... and leaking hope.   
  


*** * ***

  


The clock read nine-fifteen in the morning. Phoebe was walking in circles at the kitchen of her house, coincidentally around a chair with a picnic basket on it. When one gets up three hours before only to prepare a picnic basket, fifteen minutes of waiting could easily turn in _Turtle Time_ (which is slow, small and usually hard to be patient with). 

"Maybe this clock is not correctly set...", she said when peeking at the time yet again. She even had the funny idea the clock had just stepped one second backwards as she stared at it. Then, finally, the doorbell rang. 

Here is a good moment to remark the switch of mood. From an Impatient Phoebe suddenly came a Perky Phoebe, literally skidding on the kitchen floor while navigating in a direct line toward the main entrance. Or at least as direct as the walls allowed. The switch was as sudden as a nuclear reaction... Possibly as powerful as one, too. 

But when Phoebe opened the door, she found Helga. 

"Hello, Phoebs! Ready for the first day of Summer? Ah, I see you have the picnic basket ready; good timing!" 

"Helga? _Aw_... I was expecting Gerald," she got sad. 

"Gerald? How could that be? He was playing with some other guys at the park. I saw it myself," Helga commented. 

"Is that true? How could he forgot our date?" The basket in her hand hit the floor. 

"You can ask him. I bet he's still at the park, playing that dorky card game." 

Phoebe's mind froze. Well, not precisely. It didn't freeze in the sense that it got so cold the brain cells began to sneeze and buy medicines; it froze in the sense of stopping time around it, leaving time for an internal sequence of gasping, wondering and astonishment. Not necessarily in that specific order. 

Which didn't actually _STOP_ time, in fact. People can't do that (not any of the ones Phoebe knew, at least). It's just a metaphorical expression which tries to express (because, guess what, expressions tend to attempt such actions) that her mind became full of fast thoughts. 

Which now made her idly wonder _how_ it could freeze if it was, in fact, thinking faster. 

Anyway... She remembered Gerald telling her about an addiction he had had with a trading card game. Maybe he was back into it? 

"I think I'll need to talk to him... Helga, do you remember where he is?" 

"Sure, I'll take you there. Eeeh... Bring the picnic basket, will you? I have the funny idea you and me will eat alone."   
  


*** * ***

  


They went to the city park. Since it was the first day of summer vacation the place was pretty full. One could have tossed a stone in any direction and heard the curses with no possible mistake. Helga guided her friend to the place she had seen Gerald. They peeked over a few bushes. 

"My... _When_ did he make that crown?" 

"Let me see," Phoebe asked. She peeked too, and gasped. Gerald was at the head of a small circle of disguised guys. All the outfits were medieval-like, as if Time had decided to play a joke on that specific area of the park and make it travel several centuries backwards. As for Gerald, he was wearing a golden crown made from yellow cardboard and a cape. 

"You win again, _your Highness!_", one of the people said. 

"_As usual_...", Gerald scoffed in a snob tone Phoebe ignored he had. 

"Gerald?", the girl said while going through the bush. 

"_Ack!_ An invader from another Kingdom!", one of the geeks yelped. The rest of them got worried. 

"People! People! Settle down! She's... eh... a friend of mine. Now, stay here while I talk to her," Gerald ordered. 

He stood up and rushed to the bushes. He grabbed Phoebe by her arm and dragged her into the plants. 

"What are you doing here?", he asked. 

"_Me?_ What are _YOU_ doing here, you mean!", she complained. "We were supposed to be here at nine, together!" 

Gerald seemed nervous. "Eh... I... I'm sorry. I've just had a slight lapse back into a certain game. But that doesn't mean I won't carry out our other two appointments for today!", he hurried to say, because he saw Phoebe getting sad. 

"I forgive you. I mean, it must have been just a mistake. Can I trust you to pick me up for the movie?" 

"Sure thing...", he Eskimo-Kissed her. It felt like a cold kiss that time. "This afternoon at three. Be ready." 

"You too...", she smiled. 

They came out of the bushes: Gerald heading back to his group and Phoebe towards Helga. She gave her friend an odd smile, then followed her to the picnic area. Phoebe had a good time with Helga... but it would have been better with Gerald. She was expecting to see that movie, together. 

But she kept waiting. Gerald never came to pick her up. She tried phoning his house, but his family said he had gone to some tournament or something. Phoebe was right when she thought that it was better to forget about that dinner together.   
  


*** * ***

  


And things got worse, day after day. Phoebe tried to locate her beloved at any possible time, but he hardly was home. The few times she was able to talk with him were in apologizing phone calls (_"I'll be there, I swear!"_) and casual meetings on the street (_"I'm in a hurry! See you later!"_). 

After a few days, Phoebe sank into a sad mood. Helga couldn't help but notice, and got worried for her. Phoebe explained to her friend all her suffering, then Helga gave judgement. 

"Men... They all _stink_," Helga murmured. 

"Even Arnold?", she asked. 

"From the time he's with his cousin to the day he returns... _yes_, him too." 

"What am I going to do?", she wondered, and she sounded desperate. "Gerald doesn't pay any attention to me. I can't convince him to leave that stupid game." 

"You know...", Helga smirked, "... Arnold once told me how he managed to bring him back from that world of geeky nature. Arnold challenged Gerald to a game and he had to accept. When they reached the final round, Arnold risked everything and that got Gerald in moral peril. Maybe you can repeat that move." 

"I don't think I can beat him. He appears to be undefeatable. Well, of course. . . He's _'The King'_," she rose her arms in exasperation. 

Helga stared at her friend with a curious glow in her eyes. Somewhere inside that head full of pictures of Arnold and wrestling moves, two or more wires began to sparkle together. 

"What are the odds?", she slowly, carefully spoke. 

"What?" 

"What are the odds of beating him? I mean... You can beat other players in other card games. I've seen it. What if you learn a new game, then?" 

Phoebe looked away. She sunk in her thoughts, and she was hoping to come back before running out of air. Helga tossed a life jacket. 

"And you can kick his butt," she added. 

Phoebe's thoughts grabbed the life jacket. She turned her head to Helga, and the bossy girl was aware of that smile in Phoebe's face. 

It could have made a hole through a block of steel. 

  
  


**-o-**


	2. The Battle

**  
-o-   
  
The Queen Rules   
  
By:**   
Megawacky Max   
  
**-o-   
  
- Chapter 2 -   
The battle**

  


It was late in the evening. Gerald was in his room, designing a new deck for the next day's games. He was alone, because his family had gone to a dinner and Gerald had reached such an evolved state of _I-Don't-Care-What-They-Do-The-Pitiful-Plebeians_ that he chose to stay with his game. 

The doorbell rang. He complained of interruptions during his moment of strategy and went downstairs, reaching for the doorknob. 

"Who is it?", he asked. The tone also said _'Don't bother me'_. 

"It's Phoebe, Gerald," she said, sounding serious. 

Gerald was aware that one itty-bitty corner of his brain had suddenly called him _'Bad Boyfriend'_. It was the same itty-bitty corner that calls _'Suicidal'_ to a bungee-jumper, _'Glutton'_ to a donut addict, and _'Stupid'_ to people in general. It was, of course, his conscience. 

Gerald unlocked the door and opened it for her. Phoebe was wearing her best mood at the moment, and Gerald had wished he'd became a fly in a spider-web, since the bug was meant to have a longer life expectancy. 

"I think we need to talk... _Right now_," she whispered. 

Gerald gulped. He had just remembered the missing dates with his girlfriend. _'Bad Boyfriend'_ was heard again, now echoing along the forgotten Halls Of Phoebe in his mind. The girl walked in. 

"Oh, eh... Phoebe, I... Say, _I'm sorry_..." 

She quickly turned at him. "Sorry? _You?_ What for? Have you done anything wrong? Did you maybe... I don't know... risked more than three Big Foot cards against two Royal Knights?" 

Gerald blinked at that comment. 

"Phoebe, I-..." 

"_Don't talk to me_," she interrupted. "I don't mind if you play that card game, but it has sucked out your life like it did the last time. How could you push me away just because of a card game, Gerald?" 

"I'm sorry! It was stronger than me! I... I promise I'll do whatever you want!" 

She kept her annoyed eyes on him. Helga made sure to teach her best friend how to outstare, and _*man*_ had she taught her well. "Okay... Just one thing: join me on a picnic. That's all." 

"Really? Sure! When?" 

"Tomorrow, 10:00 am." 

Gerald gulped. "It... _has_ to be tomorrow? There's a... a final tournament... tomorrow." 

"_Exactly_ at ten?", she wondered. Gerald nodded. "I knew that, Gerald. I was informed. Now, what will you do? Come with me... or leave me for a game?" 

Gerald got a little nervous. "Phoebe... I am the King. I mean, I must be there! The humiliation would be-..." 

"_The humiliation?!_", she suddenly exclaimed. "Gerald, you have an addiction! It's _just_ a game!" 

"Phoebe, it's _more_ than a game! It's... It's... It's a great feeling, to be the King, to _rule_ over the plebeians! We can go to that picnic after I win!" 

She scowled. "You are sure to win... Are you saying you can beat any player?" 

"_Sure!_" 

Phoebe opened her purse, and Gerald was then aware she was holding one, and pulled out a deck of cards. She shown it to Gerald, fanning it open. 

"Then _let's play_...", she scowled. Even half-hidden behind the fan of card, Gerald could see her smile. It was not a relaxing sight. Not at all. 

"What... are you talking about?", he doubted. 

"I'm challenging you, _'King'_. My Kingdom against yours. An ultimate combat. You win, you go to the tournament. I win, you quit this all for good. What do you say?" 

He looked aside. "I... don't want to challenge you." 

"Then I automatically win, _'King'_. Once a Kingdom challenges another, the battle is set. If one player or kingdom is missing, the one remaining wins due to absence. That'd be an ink stain in your _'perfect'_ history. I'm planning to go to tomorrow's tournament and announce the lost battle. And then I'll challenge you there." 

Gerald glanced at her. "How do you know--...?" 

"I've studied the rules. Helga helped me training with these cards. An interesting game, I must admit. It has logic and strategy, Gerald... and I have both skills. In fact, I have more than enough not to get addicted to it and leave everything else in the dust. Now, you play... or you lose." 

Gerald also scowled. The corner of his brain now yelling _'Do Not Dare'_ was suddenly stabbed in the back by a card-shaped thought with the words _'Let The Tournament Begin!'_ written on it. Yes, it was Phoebe; yes, it was his girlfriend; but _YES_, it was a card game. 

"Partial Game?", he asked. 

"_Kingdom Krash_. Winner takes it all." 

"Just remember _you_ began with this," he stated. Gerald scowled and bowed at her: "King Gerald, Kingdom of Hairfurry." 

Phoebe also bowed, scowling as well. "Queen Phoebe, Kingdom of Helgaskewl." 

Gerald raised an eyebrow. 

"Helga chose the name, okay?", Phoebe added. 

Gerald and Phoebe walked to the round kitchen table and sat facing each other. As the rules indicated, they shuffled the adversary's deck, not stopping the threatening glances at the enemy Kingdom. They exchanged decks and placed them on their respective right, then took six cards each. 

"Okay, Phoebe. You studied the book, so you know the rules. What do you have?" 

She observed her hand. "One Cranky Uncle, two Piles of Gold, one Golden Crown, and two Dragons." 

"Very well, then... I have One Pile of Gold, one Shield, two Swords, one Dragon, and one Happy Peasant. Ladies first," he gestured, however it lacked of courtesy. 

Phoebe scowled for a second, took her dice and rolled them on the table. They stared at the numbers. 

"I get to offer," she said. "I put my Dragons on the table." 

"Okay... So I'll put my Swords to counterattack your Dragons." He gave himself the luxury of a smile. "I win the first." 

"Not the game," she scowled. 

"Not _yet_." 

Phoebe's glasses would have cracked under effects of the stare she was adopting. Her hand swept her dice off the table and rattled them in a tight fist. 

"That's it... You've asked for it, King Gerald." 

She rolled the dice. The battle had begun.   
  


*** * ***

  


It's hard to describe the intensity of the card game. Any other person watching would have thought _'Bah, just a game'_, but for Gerald and Phoebe it was not just a game, but a battle. And not just a battle, but a _war_. 

It was in the eyes. Both pairs sent daggers to the other one. Later on the daggers went away, but only to leave space to the swords, the axes, and the morning stars. They were heavily armed, indeed. The dice rolled stronger in each throw. The table would have complained about that, but since tables and similar wooden furniture have no mouths to speak with, it was kinda difficult. 

The cards went from deck to hand, and from the hand to table, and from the table to the discard pile. There were smiles when the players got good cards, but complaints when the cards were rather useless. It was, in the point of view of your average _'The King Rules'_ junkie, an Epic Combat of the Ancient Times. 

It was during the twelfth turn that Phoebe decided to talk. 

Actually, she sniffed loudly. 

"What?", Gerald asked, not deviating his eyes from his cards. 

"Nothing," she said. There was a hitch in her voice. "I play one Knight and one Catapult." 

Gerald now stared at her. There seemed to be a hint of a shine behind those oval glasses. Gerald tried hard to ignore that, looking down at the played cards. 

"Fine. I'll take the Catapult in exchange of a Pile of Gold." 

"_Whatever_," she now sobbed. 

Once a person has spent and shared time together as boyfriend and girlfriend, certain specific tones of voice are signals that could only be compared to, let's say, a fire alarm in a firework warehouse that is coincidentally lacking of proper emergency exits and has all the extinguishers depleted. That tone Phoebe had just used had that same perspective, but the additional sob was just the spark not needed in said warehouse. 

He put down his hand. 

"Phoebe, are you okay?", he asked worriedly. 

"Why wouldn't I be?", she mumbled. "I'm being defeated by... _'The King'_. It should be an honor to lose in this way." 

He scowled. "You started it, remember?" 

"You started the addiction," she replied. 

Gerald felt the small corner of his mind devoted to his conscience had suddenly been overpopulated with strong thoughts. The Card that had taken control was now being used as a cheap rug. 

He gave a sigh. 

"Look, we don't have to do this," he said. "Surrender. I won't tell anyone you did. In the tournament, I mean." 

Phoebe scowled and sniffed again. She rolled the dice and claimed "I play two Squires." 

"You don't have to!", he snapped. "Phoebe, sorry, but you have no chance! Not against me, at least. I mean, your skills are good, but I am better. Surrender, please, and let's finish this." 

"_Exactly!_ Let's finish this!", she yelled. "If I surrender, you'll be back to your game. At least let me finish it decently." 

Gerald looked down at the Squire cards, then at her eyes. Those eyes burned his. The Card in his mind took control again. Better said, it struggled positions. 

"Fine...", he took his cards. 

The game resumed in a strange way. Gerald not only had the pressure of a challenge against his girlfriend, but also the weight of those sad sniffs and sobs. He could have added the intense drilling power of her eyes, but the boy had avoided the gaze ever since they returned to the battle. He knew that would have ended it all. 

The moment came when Phoebe was against the ropes, and Gerald had to attack just one more time to win. All he had to do was wait for Phoebe to roll the dice and play one card. 

_Any card._

She did. She grabbed the dice and rolled them in a sad way. But she didn't play a card. Instead, she just placed her hand down on the table, stood up, and swept her tears away. 

"Goodbye, Gerald...", she said. Now Gerald was obliged to look at her. 

"_What?_", he gasped. 

"Goodbye, I've said. It's over. You've won the game... And you've lost _me_." 

"What?! _No!_ Don't be so final about it!" 

"_I_ am being final?!", she snapped. "Well, look at the irony! Gerald, you have been abducted by a card game, and not even losing your girlfriend, the one you _SAID_ you loved, has managed to change your mind about it!" 

Time froze. Again, not in the way of clock handles not moving, but in the form of a quiet environment around the two teenagers. Gerald was having serious thoughts, and he suddenly felt he had hit bottom. 

"Have... Have I really gone that low?", he asked. Phoebe nodded. "My... Well, um... Say..." 

He looked away. He was hoping Phoebe would scream at him. The silence was nearly killing the guy. 

"Phoebe, I... Eh," he looked at her, at last. "_I'm sorry_." 

He left his hand on the table and ran at her, hugging his girlfriend. She hugged him back. 

"Sorry! I just don't know what happened! It was stronger than me!", he claimed. "Of course you are more important that a silly card game... _Sorry!_" 

If it was possible, Gerald could hear her smile. That helped. 

"It's okay, Gerald... Sit down, please. I'm... glad we arranged this," she admitted. 

Gerald sat back on the chair. So did Phoebe. Both dried their tears. 

"So, Gerald... Would you tell me this game is over?" 

"Yes," he said. And before his mind could kick back, he added "I quit the battle." 

"Good, _good_...", she said; and Gerald could notice the smile that was beginning to grow in that cute face of hers... which, by the way, went from a smile to a grin, and not a nice one. 

"W-What?", he asked. 

"You know what?" 

"No, what?" 

Suddenly, Phoebe jumped on the table and darted an accusing index finger toward his boyfriend. 

"YOU'VE SURRENDERED!! I WIN THIS GAME, _'KING'_!! AH-HAH-HAH-HAH!!" 

Gerald's mouth fell like Rome. He mouthed a few words, but only after a few attempts was he able to speak correctly. 

"_Darn it, Phoebe!_ How could you do this to me?" 

"Do what?", she smiled, returning to her chair. 

"Make me lose by seeing you sad and all that!" 

"One reason, Gerald... _I love you_." 

Gerald was not looking at her. However, he did hear that. "I... I know, but... I..." He sighed. "I acted like an idiot, didn't I?" 

"Yep..." 

"Thanks... For bringing me back to real world," he said, now a bit more calm. 

"It's okay, Gerald. Sorry if I was a little, well... _'cheat'_." 

"No problemo. I think I'll get rid of these cards. And by the way, _HOW_ did you come up with such an idea?" 

"Helga's idea," she smiled. "Who else, if not hers?" 

"Yeah..." His eyes got fixed on the cards. "Phoebe, get rid of those, would you? If I pick 'em up, I might start over again." 

"Sure," she nodded, sweeping everything from the table. 

Then, one of the cards fell to the floor. Phoebe crouched to pick it up... and then she stared at the drawing on the small surface: one Crown. 

"_Phoebe?_", Gerald called her. "What's up?" 

Still crouched, she gave him a strange glance.   
  


*** * ***

  


Helga was walking in the park, thinking on Arnold and hoping her beloved and sugar-sweet football-head was having the worst time _*ever*_ with his cousin. The worse it was for him, the happier he'd be when seeing Helga again. 

Something distracted her. She looked around and noticed Gerald and Phoebe, laughing. They were on a squared-patterned tablecloth spread on the grass, next to a picnic basket. 

"Hey, cool! It worked!", she smiled, walking at them. 

Phoebe saw her friend coming and immediately stopped laughing. She elbowed Gerald, who also saw the one-eyebrow blonde incoming. Both hurried to hide something in the basket. 

"What's wrong, guys?", Helga asked when she was close enough. "You were having fun a few seconds ago. Is it because of me?" 

Phoebe blushed. "No, no... Well, we didn't expect you to see you here. I mean... _we wanted to be alone._" 

She smiled. "I understand, Phoebs. I'll just take a sandwich and go on my way..." 

"No, _wait_!", Gerald tried to stop her, but Helga had reached the basket first. After one look inside, Helga seriously stared at both of them. 

"Tell me I didn't see it," she grunted. 

Both teens shyly chuckled as they pulling out twin dice and card decks from the basket. "Helga...", Phoebe blushed, "... I'm proud to introduce to you the _first Royal Couple_ for the tournament of _'The King Rules'_." 

"Yeah! We're going for the Double-Mix Award!", Gerald also blushed. 

Helga immediately sent a hand down her face. "_Unbelievable!_ Phoebe, you became an addict, too!" 

"It's okay, Helga! Now Gerald and I are together all day." 

"And you won't believe her tactics!", Gerald nodded. "Queen Phoebe is the perfect choice for this King." 

"That's enough for me!", Helga sent her arms skyward. "I'm leaving! I can't believe it! This is incredible! Now I've seen it all!" 

They laughed happily as their friend went away. Okay, they had an addiction, but one that had brought them even closer together. 

**  
- The End -   
  
-o-**


	3. BONUS TRACK

**  
-o-   
  
The Queen Rules   
  
By:**   
Megawacky Max   
  
**-o-   
  
- Chapter 3 -   
BONUS TRACK**

  


Her eyes widened as much as her smile. The sight was marvelous. Below her protected feet, two skis leaned on the beginning of the white and enormous hill of snow. The frozen pine trees on both sides of the track, plus the slightly-warm rays of the sun, made Bariloche a wonderful Ice Paradise. 

"Oh, this is _*so*_ cool!", Rhonda twitched in excitement, getting ready to feel the cold air hit her cheeks. She got ready for that first thrust to the front and all the way down. 

"_¡Che, piba!_", a man caught her attention. "¡Tené cuidado en la bajada! ¡Hay mucho hielo en la pista!" 

She blinked in confusion. "Uh... _Sssure_... Thanks, eh... _Gracias, señor_." She focused her attention back on the track. "What the Heck did he say? Oh, never mind... Here goes!" 

She moved forward, beginning her journey to the base of the mountain. 

"_Whoooooo-Hooooooo!!!_ Oh, this is _incrediblllllle_!!", she happily exclaimed as she slid down. "this is so... Oh... _Oohh!!_ Whoa!!! _Ohohoohhhooooo!!!_" 

_*STUMBLE!* *SWACK!* *WHAM!!*_

"I _curse_ you, Helga!! _I curse youuuuuuuuuu!!!!_", she yelled all the rest of the way, while she literally rolled down the snowed mountains of Bariloche. 

  


**- The _*real*_ End -**


End file.
